


Ill and Irritable

by EdosianOrchids901



Series: Plain Simple Prompts [19]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bickering, Domestic, Illnesses, M/M, POV Elim Garak, POV First Person, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 10:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15970256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdosianOrchids901/pseuds/EdosianOrchids901
Summary: Prompt: "You're sick and you need rest", Garak and Julian both saying it to each other.





	Ill and Irritable

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a series of ficlets based on dialogue prompts from Tumblr. Written 3/18. The spoons joke was also part of the prompt, so I can't take credit for that bit of brilliance, as much as I'd like to.

I couldn’t stand to lie still for a second longer. My head spun as I pushed upright, and I moaned. Goodness, I felt dreadful. 

An almost blisteringly hot hand caught hold of my icy one. “Elim, where do you think you’re going?” Julian demanded. 

“I’m getting up.” I pressed my hand to my head, uncomfortable. “I’m going mad with boredom, and I’m thirsty.”

“You are not getting up.” He tightened his grip, although he was still laying flat on his back. “You’re sick and you need rest.”

“No, you’re sick and need rest.” 

He finally lifted his head a little, glaring at me. “I told you first.”

I huffed, annoyed. “Fine, we’ll both rest.”

“Fine.” Julian let his head fall back against the pillow with a soft groan. “God, I feel awful.”

“Yes, well, so do I.” I stared longingly towards the doorway. “I’m still thirsty.”

“Get down here and cuddle with me.” He sounded grumpy now. 

I quirked an eye ridge at him. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to get dehydrated.”

“I’m roasting to death.” He tossed the covers off himself, pressing his palm against his brow. “This stupid fever.”

“Shouldn’t we avoid snuggling if we’re sick?” I teased, stubborn. 

“You know damn well neither of us has an illness that’s transmissible to the other. It’s just horrible timing.” He jerked on my arm. “Elim, get over here!”

I allowed him to pull me back to the bed, wincing as my head began to spin again. Then warmth utterly engulfed me. “Oh my,” I said breathlessly, pressing closer on instinct. “It’s like a sauna.”

“I’m so glad my fever is comfortable to you.” He touched my cheek and made a disapproving sound. “You’re absolutely freezing.”

“Isn’t that the point of snuggling? To warm me up, and to cool you down?”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t be this cold. Your illness is getting worse.” Julian dragged me over so my back pressed against his chest, and curled around me. 

“Oh, my dear Julian.” While I was still feeling dreadful, at least this was a slight distraction. I tried to roll over to face him.

“Garak, no. I’m the big spoon,” he mumbled, shoving at my shoulder. 

I succeeded at flipping over despite that. “Hmph, clearly not. I’m the one with the spoons in this relationship.” I pressed my chufa to his forehead for emphasis. 

That earned me a groan, and he buried his face against my shoulder. “That was the worst joke ever.”

“I’m quite proud of it, personally.” I made the mistake of moving my head a bit, and everything began to spin again. “Oh dear, I don’t feel well.”

“I know, neither do I.” He nuzzled against my neck. “You still thirsty?”

“Yes, but I doubt I can actually walk at the moment.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it.” Julian struggled to push upright, swaying. His face paled, and he flopped back down on the bed beside me. “Or not.”

“This is something of a problem. I suppose we’ll just both have to perish.”

“No, we won’t. I’ve got a solution. Two cups of Tarkalean tea, one extra sweet, one standard,” he called to the replicator. 

“My dear, that’s not exactly a solution.”

He gave me a smug smile. “Computer, lock transporter onto both cups of tea in the replicator. Transport to my bedside table. Emergency medical override, Bashir-One-Alpha.”

I watched in shock as the cups materialized right beside us. “I appear to have underestimated you a tad.”

“You should stop doing that.” He handed me a cup, looking entirely too pleased with himself. 

“Isn’t there some sort of ethical dilemma about misusing your medical override?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. 

“I can’t let my patient die of dehydration.” He gave me a mock serious expression, eyes still twinkling. 

“A beautiful justification.” I kissed his head, and then settled in to drink my tea.


End file.
